


this one's for the lonely child

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 4x02 Coda, Coda, Domestic Abuse (mention), Fitz backstory, Fitz' Dad - Freeform, Gen, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Daisy contemplates her relationship with Fitz, and their abandonment issues.Set immediately post-4x02, contains spoilers. Angst.





	

Daisy snorted, and dropped her spoon back into the mince.

“What do you call this?” 

“Taco filler,” Robbie replied, “minus the tacos.”

“You got a vegetable around here somewhere?” Daisy asked, looking around. She’d never wanted a piece of lettuce more in her entire life, but this kitchen could do with a light and some spray and wipe before any more food should be introduced. Come to think of it, Daisy decided she shouldn’t study the state of the kitchen anymore. It was going to put her off her…meat.

“You eat vegetables now?” Robbie quipped, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Judging from the state of that van I’d say otherwise.”

“Hey, Little Debbie has been a great friend to me. Shut up and eat your mince.” 

Daisy picked up her spoon again, and used it to gesture insistently that Robbie eat. He made a point of obligingly taking a mouthful, and then crossed his arms, challenging her to do the same. She did - and tried not to think about how safe that meat would have been, in what was possibly the most questionable non-beer-specific fridge she’d ever seen.

“It has tomato in it,” Robbie pointed out defensively. “And usually I put beans in it, but I was in a rush. I have to…get back to Gabe.”

Daisy nodded thoughtfully, and teased; 

“So does this mean I’m part of your team now?”

Robbie glared. His opening up about Gabe had only been stepping over ground he knew she already knew. He wasn’t about to give away anything beyond that. 

“We are not a team. I don’t work in teams. Eat.”

His voice was almost a growl. He stood up, abandoning his bowl, and then grabbed his jacket by the nape of its neck and strode toward the door, swinging it over his shoulders as he walked. 

“Hang on, wait!” Daisy yelped, struggling out of her seat and cursing when she tried to lean on her splinted arm. “Can you at least take me back to my-“

She sighed heavily. He was ignoring her, and he’d be out of hearing range soon enough. She stuffed her hands into her pockets, and cursed again.

“Son of a bitch.” 

Tears filled her eyes, and there was no-one around to see them. She sniffed and wiped them away, and headed back inside. There was no point wasting a meal, unappetizing as it was. In all honesty, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any meat at all other than dollar burgers. This wasn’t much better – Robbie was hardly loaded – but it was something. She did check the fridge for a vegetable, just in case, and yelped at the pull of the door on her wrist.

“Son of a _bitch!”_

More tears sprung up, instinctively conjured from the pain. She wiped them away angrier this time, all but punching herself in the face. The pain wasn’t even the worst of it; she could still remember Mack and Fitz’ faces when they’d seen her bruises. Horror, hurt. They couldn’t see why she was doing this to herself. They couldn’t see what she was trying to achieve, or why she was willing to put up with the pain. Sometimes she even liked it. They couldn’t see, even though they’d dangled it in front of her face. They were hurt because they loved her; they were hurt by her trying to love them back, trying to protect them. It was what she had to do. It was for the best, right?

\-- 

“They’re saying it’s ‘for the best,’” Skye muttered. She was slumped on the couch, picking at her sleeves. Simmons and Coulson were at this moment, heading up the project to wipe her – and everything else - from her father’s memory, and she was mostly fine with that. Mostly. It was better than many of the alternatives. It still kinda felt like someone was setting her lungs on fire, though. 

“You know,” Fitz mused, passing her a glass of orange juice as he settled a few inches away on the couch. “You know, I never really understood that phrase. ‘For the best’. What’s it supposed to mean? Your life would be _worse_ if this one horrible thing had never happened?” 

Skye shrugged half-heartedly. 

“Well maybe it’s true. I mean. If Mm- … if Jiaying…had survived, you guys would probably be dead by now. And I’d be… _serving_ her, I guess. Or dead too, maybe, I don’t know.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Fitz conceded, “but if we’d managed to think of something else, or get there earlier, maybe we could have stopped her earlier. Your… Cal wouldn’t have had to do it. Or at least we wouldn’t have to wipe his memory. You’d be able to see him again.” 

“I can technically-“

“I mean _really_ see him. Talk to him.” Fitz reached across the space between them, and lay his hand gently over both of hers. “It’s not _the best_. It’s just what’s left. It’s what needs to be done, and nothing more than that.” 

Skye sniffed, and met his eyes. 

“You’re splitting hairs. They’re doing the best they can do.” 

“I never said they weren’t trying,” Fitz pointed out, “just that… I know how it feels, when people expect you to be grateful for something that sucks.”

“No-one expects you to be grateful for-“ 

Fitz waved off her concern, and she watched his face darken.

“I’m not talking about my brain injury,” Fitz pointed out solemnly. “I’m talking about my dad.”

Skye couldn’t help her jaw dropping; slowly, shocked. She looked around the room, but there was nobody else in the lounge, and those agents around the fringes of sight down the hallways and kitchens were busy: not threatening, not intrusive. Probably not even within earshot. 

“Your dad?” she whispered. “What about him?” 

Fitz’s eyes flickered away from her face and back. He’d opened this door, prepared to step through it, but it was still hard. He drew a deep breath, and confessed:

“He left, when I was seven. We were…basically broke, we had to move, we had to…” He trailed off, unsure how to verbalise it after all these years. Skye switched the position of their hands, embracing his in hers.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “Take your time.” 

“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just hard. Emotionally. To talk about.” 

Skye nodded, and waited.

“Anyway,” Fitz continued eventually. “It was hard. Really hard. That’s the point. And yet, people always used to say to me, thank God that happened, it’s for the best, it could’ve been _so much worse_.”

“…Could it?” Skye wondered. 

Fitz closed the distance between them, sliding across the separated inches until their legs met. He brought his other hand across, the one he hadn’t reached for her with, and Skye frowned. This was serious.

“Why would they say something like that?” she pressed gently. 

“I don’t think I really understood, at the time,” Fitz explained, “but Dad was…cruel. To Mum, mostly. I was okay, I think Mum was to thank for that, so yeah, it could have been worse. But you know. It could have been better. We could have not been abandoned, broke, with no explanation. He could’ve sent us money like was supposed to. Or he could have gotten help. We could’ve stayed a family, or at least tried, you know, but he gave up. He gave up on us and he could have killed us either way. I’ll never believe that’s for the best.”

\--

When Daisy came out of her reverie, she found tears on her face. What was left of her mince and tomato was cold, and the hand Mack had so lovingly wrapped was clenched around its bandages. She took a deep breath and flexed her fingers out. Their pain haunted her. Their desperation. 

 _Come home with us,_ Mack had pleaded. And Fitz –

_She’s turned her back on us. We never turned our backs._

Daisy sniffed, struggling not to sob, as she was overcome by the warm memory, saturated with relief, of Fitz’ arms around her, and his voice assuring her that there was nothing wrong. Even when she’d had nothing and no one – or so it had seemed, at least – she’d had him. 

And Fitz? Ward had betrayed him, as had Shield - the organisation to which he’d been loyal for half his life. Even May had betrayed him, having only recruited him for the sake of Coulson’s well-being, and would have shot him in the head if not for a well-timed detonation-proof door. He was probably over that by now, just as he was putting Simmons’ departure and Mack’s revolt into his past, but it still had to hurt. All those betrayals must have left so many scars on him, like being passed around from place to place had left them on her. She had always known this. It had been a point of deep connection between them and she had even twisted that back on him.

Her shoulders shook for a little while, pitiful and forlorn and sorry for herself. Sorry for him. Sorry for Mack. Sorry for the lies they were probably going to have to tell to keep her safe – to Coulson, to Jemma, to those who had only ever wanted love and safety for her. 

Then Daisy drew breath, and clenched her fists. She wiped away her tears again, with the back of her sleeve, and stood. She was hurting so many people – herself, the team, even Robbie seemed to hurt whenever she brought up what she knew. But still, she had to. _For the best, for the best_. It could have been worse, right?

As she strides out into the cold, more careful with her hands in her pockets this time, her teeth chatter over the voice that insists:

_But it could be better._


End file.
